Josh Story
by Anita Vargas
Summary: this is just your basic pre-teen novel, in my opinion. it's about a boy named josh, and that's pretty much it so far. wow, i'm good. *rolls eyes*


"Ugh. it's so early. lemme sleep." I rolled over in attempt to avoid having to face my older sister. No such luck. The inevitable smack to the back of the head followed. "Alright, alright. I'm up. Now get out of my room!"  
  
"I don't believe you. I know you way too well. As soon as I walk out of this pig sty of a room, I know you'll plop right back down on that that ratty pillow of yours and back off to dreamland."  
  
She did know me too well. Of course, I guess sixteen years was a long time to live, or rather, have to put up with someone, so she'd have had to have picked up on my stupid little game. I pulled it every morning, and every morning, she called me on it.  
  
"For cryin' out loud, why don't you ever clean?" she picked up an empty soda can. "Oh, sick!" Yep, she discovered the carbonated beverage that had been spilled on my beige shag carpet. Wow, that was spilt ages ago, she just noticed it? I grunted. "Get outta my room!"  
  
And there it was! "The look" which had been passed down from my mother to my darling sister. I sat up, offering the fact that I was actually out of bed as reassurance that I was awake.  
  
"See? I'm up! Now get out!"  
  
She sighed. "Fine, but if I come back in here later, and you're sleeping, I'm going to beat you."  
  
"Empty threats, that's all I hear!" I yelled at her as I tossed a pillow in her direction. I have such bad aim. She tossed her reddish hair back and walked off in a huff, that same red hair that no one on either side of my family had but her.  
  
I launched myself back in my bed and tried to remember what it was I had been dreaming about. My eyes wide open, I just stared at the white wall, well, what would have been white had it not had all those posters and scuffs all over it.  
  
Now I'm awake. I'm gonna kill her.  
  
"Josh?" I heard a woman's voice call. "Josh, are you up?"  
  
I mumbled something or the other that even I didn't understand.  
  
Footsteps. Great. Please let it be Dad.  
  
"Josh, what are you still doing in bed? It's 10:00. I made breakfast. Clean yourself up and come down and eat, please." My mom walked out and back down the stairs.  
  
There was no please about it. They would drag me down the steps if they had to. So basically, not only was I awake at this ungodly hour, but now I actually have to get out of bed. It's Saturday, my one day to sleep in. Is nothing sacred?  
  
Somehow I managed to roll out of bed. Granted, my head hit some hard unidentifiable object on my floor, but at least I was out of bed.  
  
I made up my mind that I wasn't going to "clean myself up" but decided I better get down into the kitchen soon. There's never breakfast around here. My breakfast, when I have one at all, usually consists of an untoasted pop-tart or two. Something was wrong with this picture.  
  
I half walked half stumbled up to the kitchen table after having hauled myself down the stairs. I pulled up a chair and flung myself into it.  
  
"Don't slouch," my mother said. I slunk farther down in the chair and glared at her. I am NOT a morning person, and I don't claim to be the nicest person in the universe. In fact, I'm downright mean when I first get up.  
  
"So, what's up? What's with the breakfast?" I popped a piece of bacon into my mouth. "Dad, what's goin' on?"  
  
He started to say something, but my mother cut in before he could get a word out. "My friend Lisa is coming to town. She's going to be staying with us for a while. Well, at least until she finds her own place."  
  
"Oh, that's cool. She's the one who bakes, right?" I looked hopeful.  
  
"No, that's Sandy. Lisa's my old college roommate, she has two kids, remember?"  
  
"That girl who always picked on me and the little boy who ate crayons and screamed all the time? They're not staying here too, are they? Oh no no no no no! They are NOT sharing my house with me!"  
  
"They were little back then. I'm sure he doesn't eat crayons anymore." "He kept trying to sit on my head!"  
  
My dad laughed. Sure it sounded funny, but I've never wanted to wring a little kid's neck as much as I did that boy's. Man, I hate kids.  
  
"He's ten now, I'm sure he'll be fine. Besides, I just said Lisa was staying with us. The children will be staying with their father for the rest of this month."  
  
"Good." I paused for a moment, crunching down on some overcooked bacon. Just the way I like it. "So, this Lisa person; does she bake?"  
  
My mom just rolled her hazel eyes and placed a hand on her hip. She didn't even dignify me with an answer. "I have a favor to ask you."  
  
"Ah, so this is what the food's about." I looked around. Grilled cheese and bacon, my favorite food other than pepperoni pizza. "I see how it is. You want me to do something, so you're trying to butter me up with good food!"  
  
Dad just chuckled. "He knows you too well, dear."  
  
"Just hear me out alright? Lisa's coming over and I want to make a good impression. Will you-"  
  
"I'm not cleaning my room, if that's what you want me to do. Anything but that."  
  
"Look, you're cleaning your room, and that's that! No ifs, ands, or buts about it."  
  
I glanced at my dad as if asking him if I really had to. The two of us sort of had this unspoken language between us and he gave me that "listen to your mother, because if I have to, so do you" look.  
  
So I had to clean my room. It wouldn't have been such a horrible ordeal had I cleaned it more often. Sadly, I've had all this miscellaneous crap accumulate over the years. Yeah, that's right, years. It's been ages since the last time I saw the floor in my bedroom, assuming that there still was a floor. There had to be some way out of this, and I intended to find one. Maybe I could get Emily to do it for me. Pay her or bribe her or something. I'd find some way, I always do.  
  
* * *  
  
"Clean your room for you? No way! That place is like a black hole! I'd get sucked in and I'd never be heard from again!"  
  
"I fail to see the down side to all of this."  
  
"Shut up. And anyway, it doesn't need to be cleaned, it needs to be torched."  
  
"You neat freaks wouldn't understand. You guys may be all organized, but I bet it's easier for me to find everything I need to in my room than it would be for you to find something in yours. I always know exactly where everything is, it's on the floor!"  
  
"I don't care. I'm still not doing it."  
  
"I'll pay you, or. something."  
  
"No amount you could give me would be worth that."  
  
"Aw, come'n!"  
  
"No!"  
  
That's it, I was desperate. I can't believe I had sunk this low. I got on my knees and clung to the pant leg of her khaki overalls. "Emily, please, please, PLEASE help me out here! I beg of you!"  
  
"You're so dramatic. Must've gotten the acting ability from your talented older sister, although you're not nearly as good as she."  
  
"Right, whatever," I shook my head. "So will you clean my room or not?"  
  
"I think not. You're on your own, kid." She drove me out of her room and shut the door. Little bells on the outside of it jingled and it closed. It made me sick to my stomach. Her neatness, the pink walls of her room, all the flowers and pictures of kittens strewn around in there. Typical girl stuff to be precise. Hard to believe she was 18. I stomped off to my room and decided I had better get to work and try my absolute hardest to misplace the horrible images of her sleeping quarters.  
  
"I don't even know where to start!" I looked around at everything. Food wrappers and plastic cups haphazardly placed around my room, unwashed clothes adorning my not-so-clean carpet, I couldn't even see my desk, although I guessed it was that big wooden piece of furniture that was covered with crap. I had crumpled up papers and such that seemed to lead up to a garbage can, but never made it quite the distance. As previously stated, I have horrible aim. My sketches were never up to par in my eyes, though better than your average person can draw, I suppose. I'm never satisfied with my work, but that's just the way it goes.  
  
I decided I'd start with the dirty clothes. What the hell was I supposed to do with all this stuff? A laundry basket would be nice right about now. I knew I had one some where. Okay, first task. Find the laundry basket. I soon found it over by my dresser, filled with everything BUT laundry, of course.  
  
Patches of floor could now be seen. It was a miracle. I never thought I'd see the day.  
  
Then the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" I answered, out of breath. I had raced around my room like a madman trying to find where I had last left my blue cordless phone.  
  
"Hey, man, it's me," my friend Mike stated.  
  
"Oh, hey."  
  
"What are you up to?"  
  
"Get this, I'm cleaning my room."  
  
"No way in hell."  
  
"Seriously, that's what I said."  
  
"Wow. Well, anywho, I'm callin' to find out if you're going to Amber's party."  
  
"Amber's party? What party?" Crash and burn. Amber was having a party and I wasn't invited? What the hell is this? Oh, for a little background information. Amber York was probably about the most popular girl in my sophomore class. Just about every guy in the whole school had to have liked her at some point or another. She was the very image of what a girl should be. Blonde, curly hair, tall, played softball, volleyball, basketball, and ran track. I'd had a crush on her since I was in fifth grade. I remember one time, she actually spoke to me. She had called me John, but still, she spoke to me! She asked if she could borrow a pencil in algebra class last year. She never gave it back, but that's okay. I mean, come on! She's Amber York!  
  
"You weren't invited?"  
  
"Uh. of course I was. I just didn't realize that was today."  
  
"Riiiight. So, are you going or not?"  
  
"Nah, I can't. I have to clean my room. I mean, I'll ask the parental units, but I doubt they'll let me go unless my room is spotless."  
  
And I doubt she'll want an uninvited guest. Blah.  
  
"Dude, that could take forever."  
  
"That's what I'm saying."  
  
"Well, I guess I'm outta here. Later."  
  
"See ya."  
  
Damn. And the winner of the "Biggest Loser Award" goes to. drum roll please. Joshua Bridges!  
  
Ah, man. I could just curl up and die. Wait a sec. How was Mike invited, and I wasn't? That's insane! Mike and I have been best friends since about second grade. We were practically inseparable. Why invite one and not the other? Okay, that makes absolutely no sense to me.  
  
What do I do? Should I just ignore the fact that the hottest girl on the face of this earth is having a party and I wasn't invited? Or should I just go anyway? Hey, now there's an idea. Ick. Visions of big huge men throwing me out of her mansion come to mind. Would it be worth it? Would I stand out like a sore thumb because I hadn't been invited? No, I made up my mind. I'm not going. Back to cleaning.  
  
"Honey, can you come down here?"  
  
"I'll be down in a minute, Mom." Man, what does she want? I love my mom and all, don't get me wrong, but she can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Always telling me what to do and how to do it. What kills me is my sister is the same way. It's like having another mom. Boy, wouldn't that suck. Having two moms. I cringed at the thought.  
  
I hustled down the stairs and into the living room. "Whatcha need?"  
  
"Josh, this is Lisa."  
  
Uh oh. Introductions. Wow, I must've looked a fright. I thought about my grungy, unwashed hooded sweatshirt and my baggy pants. My hair, at present, had been uncombed. No doubt it was going every which way it wanted to, as it usually did.  
  
"And these are her two kids, Clayton and Jamie."  
  
Screeeeeeeeeech! Crash! Wait a second, did she say kids? What are they doing here? I thought they were with their dad!  
  
"Uh. hi," I managed to say. I think they saw the concerned look on my face.  
  
"Hello!" the little boy yelled. He was just as I remembered him. Only now the little rat is ten, not three. Sigh. Better hide the crayons.  
  
"Hey," said the girl. Whoa! Maybe girl wasn't the right term. I was picturing an awkward little nine-year-old. She'd grown up quite a bit. Think back, think back. Holy schnikes! She was my age! I remember now! Wow, I have a sixteen year old girl staying in MY house! Score! I gotta tell Mike.  
  
"Josh, why don't you show Clayton and Jamie to their rooms?"  
  
"Um, alright. Wait, who's staying where?"  
  
"Jamie will get the guest bedroom upstairs, and Clayton will be staying in your room with you. We'll set up the futon later."  
  
No way, that little monster cannot stay in my room. He'll wreck and ravage it! I had better find a way out of this. Why can't he share a room with his sister?  
  
The three of us all walked upstairs.  
  
"I thought you guys weren't coming," Wow, that must've sounded rude. Take it back! Take it back!  
  
"Yeah, well we're here, so sorry to disappoint you." Jamie retorted.  
  
Ouch, she's not happy with me already. She obviously hasn't changed much since the last time we met. Great, I have a moody girl on my hands. This should be fun. I take back all the stuff I said about how cool it was having a girl stay here.  
  
"Well, this is your room," I pointed her towards the room to our left. There really wasn't much in there, except a fold out couch, a phone, and a TV. Then again, what more do you need?  
  
"Alright," she said as she dropped all of her bags on the floor. She had quite a few bags. I probably should have helped her with them. That would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. Ah well, too late now.  
  
I just kinda stood there awkwardly for a moment, before she told me I could leave. Off to my room.  
  
"This is my room. I guess you'll be staying in here with me," I told Clayton.  
  
He didn't waste a moment. He bounded into my room and started picking things up and messing with my stuff. I knew it wouldn't be long before he started wreaking havoc on my belongings. This living arrangement sucks. Man, I hope they find a house soon.  
  
* * * 


End file.
